Fighting: It's what we do
by Morganeth Taren'drel
Summary: Sam and Dean have fought as brothers, together and apart training for the lives they've been forced to live. Here are three glimpses into those times.
1. Chapter 1

**Fighting: It's what we do.**

**AN**: Another story idea that came from a friends prompt. There will actually be three installments for this one. So I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I dont own the characters from Supernatural

**Chapter 1**

"Dean!" John barked his name from the sideline. "Guard your head!"

"I'm guarding my head," Dean fumed. "He's just got freakishly long arms!"

Sam laughed. "No longer than they were yesterday," he taunted.

"You must have gained at least three inches last night," Dean countered raising his guard, but Sam's fist still managed to glance off the top of his head.

"Your head Dean!" John called again, his tone sounding a little amused.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he glared up at his brother; who for all the trouble he was having fighting might as well have gone from 5 feet over night to 6. The twenty year old smirked. "My socks don't match," he pointed out randomly. As expected Sam's eyes darted to his feet and Dean took the opportunity to strike, bringing his little brother back down to his level.

Thanks for reading!

Morganeth Tarendrel


	2. Chapter 2

**Fighting: It's what we do.**

**AN**: Part two, please enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural

**Chapter 2**

Sam stood in the University's gym, brown eyes scanning over the array of equipment and open space for all kinds of exercise.

_Dean stood at the mouth of the alley, green eyes sizing up his opponents._

It had been a stressful few weeks of exams and class; and Sam had been feeling antsy like he'd been sitting still for way too long.

_The road had been quiet these last couple of days, no serious hunts drawing his or John's attention. It left him feeling wired, like he couldn't sit still any longer._

Sam hadn't expected to find himself seeking out anything from his past; that had been left behind when John slammed the door behind him.

_A few months back and Dean might have struck up a sparring match with Sammy, if John hadn't ordered it first._

Now standing alone in front of the large punching bag, Sam's fists clenched.

_Now alone with his dad, Dean sought out danger; and a fight over hustled pool appeared to be next on the list. Dean's fist clenched in anticipation._

Sam's fist struck out a rhythm against the rough material of the punching bag. He kept his stance light and fluid, just the way Dean had taught him all those years ago. The thought of his brother only increased the fury of his attacks. Sam's breaths came quickly as sweat beaded on his forehead. He remained focused as his vision tunnel narrowing in on his inanimate opponent.

_Dean's fist struck the face of his nearest attacker the man's nose breaking beneath the weight of his punch. His muscles were tense; every sense on high alert as another drunken man rushed in to try and take his revenge. Dean tried to dodge the attack but felt something harder than a fist clip his shoulder, throwing him off balance. 'You know it's not going to be a fair fight.' Sam's voice warned in the back of his head. The thought of his brother left Dean feeling hollow inside. He rounded on his living opponents feeling the rush of adrenaline flood through him._

The chains holding the punching bag suspended, creaked ominously as Sam struck the bag one last time; a round house kick with his leg. He found himself panting for breath, his muscles suddenly feeling like jelly now that he'd given them a moment of rest. Dropping hands to hips Sam dropped his head pulling in deep even breaths. He felt refreshed and exhausted at the exact same time; but most important, his mind was clear.

_The metal pipe that had been used in an attempt to bash his brains in fell from Dean's bloodied hand clanking sharply against the pavement. Dean drew shallow breaths as he brushed a hand across his forehead, sweeping away sweat and blood. His back ached, ribs protesting the expansion of his lungs. Dean swallowed thickly green eyes sweeping over the men crumpled at his feet. He'd managed to come out on top and that was the important thing, but he didn't feel any better for this release of energy._

Sam stepped out of the gym into the cool evening air, the breeze sending goosebumps along his arms as the sweat dried on his skin. He was looking forward to going back to his apartment and taking a nice long shower.

"Hey Sam," Jess greeted with a welcoming smile as they met on the street.

"Jess what's up?"

She slipped her arm around his waist as they continued walking. "I thought maybe we could go out."

Sam nodded but looked down at her with a suggestive grin. "Or we could just stay in."

_Dean stepped out of the alley with a hiss of pain; spitting blood onto the filthy sidewalk he made his way back towards the motel. The night air felt too warm against Dean's skin and all he could think about was a long cold shower and maybe some beer to wash the taste from his mouth. Opening the motel room door Dean wasn't surprised to find that he was alone. John had gone to speak with an acquaintance of his, who could shoot the breeze till the end of time. _

_With a drawn out sigh, Dean lowered himself gingerly onto his bed. He felt more drained than he'd been willing to admit and the silence of the motel room felt like it closed in around him._

_"I won the fight," he said to the empty room, imagining the expression that would have been on Sam's face. "Go me..."_

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Tarendrel


	3. Chapter 3

**Fighting: It's what we do.**

**AN**: Here's the final chapter for this series of drabbles, I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural.

**Chapter 3**

Dean tipped his head back; allowing the last dregs of his third beer to drain down his throat. It had been a long weekend, a hard hunt; and neither he nor Sam felt they'd actually come out on top. Now they were trying to forget, to put hunt behind them, wash the foul taste from his mouth. Letting the bottle drop to the mustard colored carpet along with the others Dean made a reach for the last bottle.

Sam's hand reached the amber bottle first and Dean slapped his brother's arm aside. "I called last beer," he said pointedly.

The younger Winchester maintained his hold on the beer and took a careful moment to study the bottle. "I don't see your name on it," Sam smirked, reaching to crack open the bottle. "Possession is nine/tenths of the law..."

"Then I'll just be taking it from you," Dean cut in, making a quick grab for Sam's arm.

His brother pulled away sharply, pressing the palm of his left hand against Dean's chest to keep the distance between them. Dean smacked the limb aside, making another grab for the coveted bottle. Dean's momentum pushed Sam off the edge of his bed and they both tumbled to the floor. Sam just managed to keep the bottle of beer upright and out of Dean's reach as they both struggled to get up.

Dean grunted as Sam's knee caught him in the side but he hardly noticed, his blood was pumping now and he wasn't going to stop until he'd won his prize. Forcing his way onto Sam's legs, Dean attempted to pin his brother to the floor using gravity and his greater mass to his advantage.

"Dude, get off me," Sam complained, holding the beer out of reach above his head. "You weigh a ton!"

"Give me the beer," Dean demanded, fending off Sam's free hand as he reached for the bottle.

Sam twisted sharply under him, throwing Dean to the side with a triumphant smirk. Dean latched onto his brother's leg yanking sharply; this fight wasn't over yet. Sam struggled to maintain a hold on the bottle, but the beer slipped from his hand. Dean watched in horror as the amber liquid began to foam from the still capped top. Obviously Sam had managed to crack it open before the fight broke out.

"No!" Dean mourned watching the beer soak into the carpet.

Sam bumped hard against Dean's shoulder as he got up from the floor. "You do realize there's another six pack in the trunk right?"

"Yeah," he admitted, calmly getting to his feet. "Doesn't change the fact that was my beer."

"Well you're more than welcome to it now," Sam told him with a laugh.

"I should make you drink it," Dean warned, reaching for his coat to fish the Impala's keys from his pocket. "And just for that, you're not getting any of the others."

"Really?" Sam asked in a challenging voice. "How're you going to stop me?"

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Tarendrel


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